


You Can Fly!

by cattyk8



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Justice League - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, Drabble, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Humor, Song Lyrics, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 19:39:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16290524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cattyk8/pseuds/cattyk8
Summary: Superman has another fatal weakness, and it isn’t a green glowing rock from outer space. It’s negativity. Good thing Batman is a shining beacon of hope and joy.





	You Can Fly!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CrocInCrocs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrocInCrocs/gifts).



Everybody knows at this point that the S on Superman’s shield isn’t really an S, even though it matches up nicely with the name everyone knows the hero by. It’s a symbol that means “hope,” and really, how perfect is that? The big blue-clad hero positively shines with earnestness and goodwill.

The guy flies around saving people from everything from muggers to natural disasters to alien invasions, for crying out loud. And he still takes the time to rescue kittens stuck in trees, visit sick kids in the hospital, and escort little old ladies across the street, if everything _The Daily Planet_ publishes is to be believed.

It makes sense that the guy’s metahuman abilities are powered by sunshine, because what else would the world’s mascot of hope and optimism fuel up on in order to keep fighting the good fight?

Most people would think that’s a rhetorical question. But the Justice League guards the most dangerous secret in the world: that the only thing that keeps Superman, well, _super_ is his ability to smile in the face of whatever the universe throws at him. In fact, the founding members dread the day Lex Luthor finds out that one way to strip Superman of his powers is to make him sad.

Batman has long lectured the Man of Steel on the notion that his losing his powers because he is feeling _sad_ is possibly a psychosomatic reaction. “Stop reading your own press, boy scout,” the Dark Knight has told the Kryptonian more than once. “Better yet, stop _writing_ it.”

But it never seems to work. And for the most part, that’s fine. Clark’s been raised to see the positive side of just about everything.

Batman rips him a new one for bungling during a battle. Clark beams and enfolds the cowled hero into a hug. “Thank you for caring about my safety,” Superman says gently.

Flash breaks his leg trying to execute some silly showboating move. “Hey, at least now you’ve got most of the Justice League at your beck and call,” the Man of Steel says, only half-joking as he fetches drinks and food for the speedster no less than eight times in the span of half an hour.

The rest of the Justice League is in an uproar because Batman takes on a nine-year-old as his partner. “Robin was going to strike out on his own,” Clark tells them. “Batman only offered to train him when it became clear he wouldn’t be able to discourage the boy from sneaking out. It’s not ideal, but it’s _safer_ this way. And I’ll keep an eye and an ear out for him.”

But Superman, despite possessing incredible powers, is only just one man. And he isn’t always able to save everyone. And sometimes thoughts of all the people he can’t save send him into a spiral of self-doubt and recrimination. When this happens, Superman loses the powers that make him Superman, and Clark is left with memories of blood, tears, broken bones, and anguished cries.

On these days, he retreats to his Fortress of Solitude or to his apartment in Metropolis and refuses to leave, except to go to his job as a reporter at _The Daily Planet_. Usually he calls his mother in Kansas, and she is able to cheer him up. On very bad days, he doesn’t even do that; he just calls in sick. And not even his mother can wrest him out of the blues.

When this happens, the Justice League knows exactly what to do and who to call.

“Hey, Spooky,” the Green Lantern says over the coms on one such day.

“What.”

“Oi! Take a chill pill, Bats! No need to get your growly face on.”

“What do you want. I’m busy.”

“Yeah, yeah, but you’re Batman. You’re always busy. You’re like the world’s worst workaholic.”

“Lantern.”

“Whoops! Sorry, changed the tracks on my brain train, whaddyaknow?”

Silence.

“Okay, okay, don’t hang up. I drew the short straw to tell you that Big Blue is in a funk.”

“Again?”

“Yeah.”

“Call Martha.”

“Yeah, didn’t work. She sent him a pie and everything. He just had it zeta beamed to the Watchtower because ‘I don’t deserve pie. People died because I wasn’t there to save them.’” The Green Lantern pauses. “I gotta say, this must be some pretty deep funk, man. That pie was bliss.”

Batman hums in annoyance. “Is this about Markovia?”

“Yeah, pretty sure it is.”

“He wasn’t even on planet at the time.”

“He saw photos of some of the bombed-out safe houses where people had drawn his symbols on the wall, hoping he’d come to rescue them.”

“He’s been negotiating a peace treaty with the delegates from the Antarean star system for the past nine weeks.”

“We did try to point that out. All he said was that he appreciated our attempt to excuse his failures. Then he stopped taking our calls. We tried getting him on the emergency line, but when he found out there wasn’t actually an emergency, he just told us he was disappointed in us.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said. So are you go and do that thing you do?”

“Hnn.”

“Come on, Spooky, you’re our Hail Mary here. Arrow says Luthor’s up to something, and he might be teaming up with Poison Ivy and CADMUS to do it. You _know_ that’s not going to be anything good.”

“Hnn.”

“What am I gonna tell the others.”

Batman sighs. “Fine. I’ll call Superman.”

“Oh thank god.” The relief is naked in the Green Lantern’s voice. “Hey, Batman?”

“What.”

“What is it that you do that gets Supes out of his blue moods, anyway? Maybe the rest of us can learn to do it so you’re not the only guy we can call in this kind of scenario. I mean, what with you insisting on being just a part-time member of the League and all.”

“Independent contractor.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatevs, dude. You know what I mean.”

“I doubt this is replicable, although Robin may be able to offer the same service.”

“So it’s like a Bat thing? Or a Gotham thing? Or a no-superpower thing? Or maybe a genius thing?”

“Batman out.”

The call cuts out on the Green Lantern’s protests, and Batman leans back in his chair in the cave, steepling his fingers as he prepares himself to call Superman. He thinks back to the Green Lantern’s question for a moment. _It’s really more of a Clark Kent thing_ , he muses.

Then he rolls his eyes at his own sentimentality and enters a command to connect him to Superman via an untraceable, unrecordable communications line.

The blank screen on one of the cave computer’s monitors resolves into an interior view of Superman’s Fortress of Solitude. Clark is sitting at his own computer, his entire posture dejected, his head resting on his fist as he stares out at nothing.

“Clark.”

His head lifts, and Bruce sighs at the misery in his friend’s eyes. “Bruce,” Clark says, and his lip wobbles pitifully. “They were hoping I would save them, Bruce.”

“I know.”

“They couldn’t have known I was lightyears away.”

“I know.”

“I should have been here.”

“Hnn.”

“No, really. I should’ve left that whole Antarean thing to the Lanterns. I would’ve been here instead if I had.”

“Or we’d be facing an invading armada from the Antares star system,” Batman says frankly. “You can’t save everybody, Clark. No matter who whispers your name or draws your symbol on a wall.”

Clark sighs. “I hear what you’re saying,” he whispers. “And I know you’re right. But it still feels terrible.”

“I know.”

Another sigh. “Bruce, do you think you could—”

Now it’s Batman’s turn to sigh. “Really?”

“Please?”

He huffs in annoyance. “Fine.”

Bruce Wayne takes off his cowl. There is no way he is going to do this as Batman. He clears his throat awkwardly, his cheeks already pinkening as they always do whenever he has to do this.

“ _Think of the happiest things_ ,” Bruce sings in a surprisingly melodious baritone. “ _It’s the same as having wings. Take the path the path that moonbeams make. If the moon is still awake, you’ll see him wink his eye. You can fly! You can fly! You can fly!_ ”

The Gothamite watches as his friend’s tense shoulders start to relax. Another verse, and the harsh lines around Clark’s mouth and between his eyes have smoothened, leaving the Kansan looking young and calm as ever. He’s still seated in the thronelike chair in front of the Fortress computer, though. So Bruce pushes on.

“ _When there’s a smile in your heart, there’s no better time to start. Think of all the joy you’ll find when you leave the world behind, and bid your cares goodbye… You can fly! You can fly! You can fly!_ ”

Clark is smiling now, dreamy-eyed, and floating above his chair. Bruce stops singing and huffs in annoyance.

“Thanks, Bruce,” Clark says warmly.

“Psychosomatic symptoms, boy scout. See a doctor.”

Clark pouts. “But nobody chases the blues away like you do. And look—” He grins.

Bruce scowls. “Don’t you fucking say it.”

“I can fly! I can fly! I can fly!”

**Author's Note:**

> Posted this old drabble of mine after a conversation with Crocco and Tsubaki on chat server for the lovely writers and artists participating in the [SuperBat Big Bang](http://superbatbigbang.tumblr.com/) 2018 challenge. I mentioned writing this last year in a conversation about Superman's super powers and lack of nerfs, and they asked to see it. So here it is in all its fluffy cracky craziness, resurrected from my fiction Graveyard folder. This is has not been beta read and only mildly edited.


End file.
